Slipping away wasn't as easy now as it had been at the start of this. All week there'd been little crises and then, for Coulson at the Raft, a big ass one that meant he and Nick weren't getting out to Genosha nearly as soon as they'd wanted to. It left Nick on edge, the waiting, because every minute wasted was another minute that Morse might be dead. But fuck it, it was over two weeks since they even figured anything out (like fucking idiots) so if she was dead then she was dead. Sometimes you lost people, wasn't good or pretty or nice but it happened. You had to be prepared for that.

Operation Peabody and Sherman (because Morse was a genius bitch and Justin was a dorky fuck in glasses) had to be temporarily put on hold but by the end of the week they were back on track and ready for action. With no demi-god left to babysit at the Raft and an LMD installed on the helicarrier, the pair met up on a small island near the prison in the bay where Nick landed a small alpha jet he'd appropriated. He handed off gear to Coulson (telepathy blockers, a bullet proof vest, and a gun that would shoot off capsule darts of mutant inhibiting serum) then climbed back into the cockpit of the alpha jet and waited for Coulson to join him. This was momentously stupid, sure, but he couldn't think it was any worse than half the other shit he'd done (including infiltrating Latveria to blow up an orphanage and chasing Madam Hydra halfway around the globe during a viral outbreak). If they succeeded then they had their agent- and, somewhat unfortunately, Hammer- back. If they failed, well, there was still a chance they'd manage to get out alive. Slim one, but it was there.

The flight was long and during it they discussed their plans. Coulson had gleaned some information about the cells below Genosha (the likeliest place Magneto would be keeping them and pretty much what they had to hinge their bets on) and a few entrances into them. Problem was they likely couldn't go out the same way they'd come in. The easiest one to get into would be to blow open the beach entrance, which was the most remote, but it would also draw attention to them pretty quick. Another option was the entrance from within the city of Genosha itself that the Brotherhood used, but that meant having to get there unnoticed. Luckily they were agents of an espionage directorate and Nick fucking Fury wasn't just a spy- he was the spy. Sure, he didn't get out in the field much anymore these days but an old dog always had some new tricks courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. R&D. There was more shit he'd stolen from special helicarrier storerooms than he'd handed off to Coulson at the start of their trip.

Research and development was always trying to make shit invisible, it was kind of the m.o. of being a spy, after all, and though they never managed it for very long they'd figured out creative ways to do it. One of these was the little pin he handed over to Coulson as they came into sight of Port Mathurin on the tiny island of Rodrigues. They were leaving the jet and taking out an inflatable motorboat. It was gonna be a tight fit on the escape, but they'd manage it. "Three minutes," Fury told him, "You hook that pin to your shirt, tap it, you'll go invisible for three minutes. Building that'll take us down to the cells is right inside the eastern city limits, if everything goes our way, shouldn't take us more than three minutes to get to it." That was a big "if" but they were going to have the encroaching darkness of night on their side and they were entering from a deserted beach. They got out in the boat and made landfall at dusk, scanning the clifftops above for onlookers. There was no one and they were lucky for that because weeks ago there'd been a big ugly mansion with a crazy motherfucker living inside and this beach, Nick thought was some satisfaction, was that asshole's private beach. The careful trek along the sand, keeping close to the cliffs on their right, took twenty minutes and they waited on a hill above the city for night to fall.